


My Experience

by myneuronarrative



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Friendship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Intersex Character, Menstruation, Misogyny, Nonbinary Character, Other, Romance, Sexual Harassment, Swearing, Transmisogyny, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myneuronarrative/pseuds/myneuronarrative
Summary: No one can take away from your experience. Rewritten concept for Alone Together.





	My Experience

In the downtown outskirts of Beach City, a reputable bar lit up from the inside. Several people cluttered the outdoor entrance, smoking and being unusually happy. A van parked itself right by the door and out poured Sour Cream, Buck Dewey, and Jenny Pizza. The bar was booked for a DJ gig that night; Jenny Pizza knew better than to flirt with competing businesses in town, but she only cared about getting Sour Cream behind those turntables. The only problematic aspect would be having to show their IDs, but at least the bar didn’t have a strict age policy against teen acts.

Sour Cream and Buck struggled to get the amplifiers out from the van, but a kind hand tapped one of them on the shoulder. “Hey, can I help?”

They couldn’t pick their jaws up off the floor after turning around. Stevonnie was tall, light brown, and statuesque. Their legs were exposed and unshaven, their calves sprouting from their shorts. They wore large sandals, wriggling their toes due to the leftover sand from the beach.

“Cool,” Buck said.

“Hey, yeah!” Sour Cream said contently. “Be careful, though.”

Despite not having toned muscles, they lifted the cases, amps, and turntables with ease. The boys were in awe of their strength. Their belly folded over the button of their shorts, dark brown ripples present on their skin. Their hair fell in a messy curtain on their back, and when they flipped their head back, sweaty from the workout, they felt like a mermaid fresh out of the ocean.

“Hey!” Jenny approached Stevonnie, eyeing them up and down. “I don’t think I know you, girl. What’s your name?”

“They, actually,” Stevonnie said. “Not a girl.”

“Hey, it’s OK! I’ll get it right next time.”

“Thanks! I’m Stevonnie.”

“Welcome to the party, fam,” Jenny said. “Now, we can’t drink. You probably can, but just so you know, Cokes are on me tonight.”

“Oh, that’ll be just fine!”

Stevonnie held the door open for the trio. They had their hands X’ed by the tattoo artist at the entrance. When Stevonnie tried getting past the welcome mat, the man stopped them.

“Got an ID?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Then I gotta mark your hand.”

Stevonnie made a fist, and he crossed their skin unceremoniously.

“Don’t let me catch you, now,” the man said.

“You won’t.”

Stevonnie took one step, two, and then a wave of nausea nearly capsized them. They made a mad rush for the women’s bathroom. They locked the door, entered the single stall, and quickly sat down. They took off their sandals to empty the sand from their feet.

Then, a slipstream to themself: “What’s wrong?—I forgot my birth control this morning.—Your _what?_ —No, it’s not like that. I have really bad period cramps.—Ohhh. Do you have a pad?—No, but…ugh, damn! I don’t have any change on me.—Man, there really is…a lot of hair.”

Someone knocked on the door. From outside: “Please let me in! It’s urgent.”

Stevonnie rushed to the rescue, quickly stuffing toilet paper into their underwear and pulling their shorts up first. They unlocked the door, and it almost collided with them as the woman rushed to the mirror to redo her eyeliner.

Stevonnie was aggrieved. “Why is putting on eye makeup urgent?”

The woman turned to them, earnest in her desperation. “Because it is to me.”

The confused grooves in Stevonnie’s face lightened up. The woman was pretty and petite, her hair a dynamic color of teal blue with sanguine red lips. Her winged eyeliner was slightly misshapen, but her full eyelashes compensated for this error. Stevonnie understood the woman’s apprehension immediately.

“I don’t know,” the woman said, distraught as she capped her liquid eyeliner. “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“Neither do I.”

She looked at Stevonnie like a wounded doe. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

She relaxed, awkwardly leaning against the chipped restroom wall.

“You get it,” she said softly.

“To some extent, yes.” Stevonnie suddenly felt hot and sweaty, itching from the thick, dark hair on their body. In less than a minute, they went from feeling wonderful about their appearance to thinking they were bleeding out as if injured for all to see.

The woman looked around modestly. “Be honest…do I look obvious?”

“You’re you, and that’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” she said, not sufficiently mollified.

Stevonnie pulled at their pockets. “Hey, can I bum one?”

The woman nodded, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out from her jacket pockets. “You’ll have to smoke outside, though.”

“Oh, no!” Stevonnie shook their hands. “I mean a quarter for the sanitary napkins.”

The woman nodded, hastily putting her cigs away and digging through her purse for a spare quarter. She flicked it their way.

“Dance easy, sweetheart.” The woman smiled, winked once, and almost left the bathroom.

“Hey.”

She turned back to them.

“I think you belong,” Stevonnie said sweetly.

The woman smiled as though she was about to cry. “Thanks. You do, too.”

* * *

Incandescent, multi-colored lights dipped from the bar’s roof. There was a pool table on the other end of the door in its own enclosed section of the building. There existed two TVs on the adjacent walls above the bar. Bartenders walked past each other and slid Coors Lights and Michelob Ultras across the wooden surface to their patrons. A chalkboard on the bar had the date of Sour Cream’s DJ party underlined and punctuated with three exclamation points.

Stevonnie slid onto one of the worn bar stools. They got their first Coke and sipped, easing against their fresh napkin. It took longer to get things set up than the Cool Kids anticipated. Ronaldo offered to help but was immediately rejected; Lars puffed out his chest and tried to lift the equipment, but Sadie laughed and volunteered to do it herself. Stevonnie picked at the tufts of fuzz that bled from their seat.

From across the bar, the woman from the bathroom splashed her drink into a young man’s face and stormed out. Several bar patrons laughed and quibbled about his lack of game. Stevonnie cringed and nervously swigged the rest of their Coke in three gulps.

“May I please have another?” they asked one of the bartenders.

“Don’t worry, kid,” one of them said. “Jenny’s tab tonight.”

“Wow, you pounded that thing!” another one complimented. “Careful, hon. Don’t catch brain freeze.”

“Did you get a high ball by mistake?” a bar patron sniggered.

Stevonnie received their second Coke, and the sneering patron left, shuffling money towards one of the bartenders as though it was a secret code. They drank delicately this time, trying to let the chill of the ice relax their unusually aching body. Their sandals sagged from their feet, and they clapped the material against their heels.

“Bored, huh?”

A new voice came from beside Stevonnie. The man slid into the seat smoothly, taking off his damp jacket. It was the guy the woman stormed out on.

Stevonnie looked at the entrance. “Did you know that girl?”

“Hm?” He feigned ignorance before laughing dryly. “Oh, don’t worry about _him_.”

“Her,” Stevonnie said.

As they turned their attention to the muted TV above them, he touched their hand. “I’m Kevin.”

“I’m hungry,” Stevonnie said, pulling their hand away.

Kevin graciously ordered a basket of fries. Stevonnie thanked him and immediately dipped one into a tiny puddle of ketchup.

“ _My_ treat,” Kevin said. “I know that bimbo is bragging about paying for everything, but I just can’t let a woman pay for me, you know?”

“Why not?” Stevonnie asked through a small mouthful of fries.

“It’s just not the natural order of things. Men are supposed to pay for women. Otherwise, we don’t…” Kevin put his hand on Stevonnie’s thigh, rubbing it up and down. “Make a good impression.”

Stevonnie gulped. The last sentence sounded more like a command than a continuous train of thought.

Kevin’s thumb brushed their clothed inner thigh, eerily close to home. “You’re pretty hairy. That’s OK. I can make it work.”

Stevonnie put his hand off of their thigh. “I’m sorry, but I’m uncomfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked, bewildered.

“I _mean_ ,” Stevonnie said, “I’m _uncomfortable_.”

Kevin shrugged, putting his hands up in defense. “Then forget what I said. We can take it easy.”

Stevonnie stretched their arm out and then rubbed their head, airing out their armpit. “Can we please talk about something else?”

Kevin took notice of the bushel of hair beneath their upper arm. In his mind, it all made sense.

“Oh, I get it,” Kevin said. “You’re one of those traps, aren’t you?”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Yeah, you like to trick people into thinking you’re a woman.”

“I’m _not_ a woman.”

“Oh.” Kevin inched closer, touching Stevonnie’s hand again. “Finally, you’re being honest with me. You just had to say something, baby. I swing both ways.”

“I’m not a man, either.” Stevonnie pulled away. “And I’m _certainly_ not your baby.”

Kevin’s face furrowed. “I don’t get it. So, you’re like— _both?_ ”

“I’m neither,” Stevonnie said. “I’m gender-neutral.”

Kevin nodded. As Stevonnie began standing up from their seat, he reached behind them. As soon as he touched their back pocket, Stevonnie pulled away. 

“That didn’t feel gender-neutral to me,” he said with a leery grin.

“Fuck off!” Stevonnie said, surprised at themself for their language. The combination of the guests’ reactions and the sudden froth of profanity made them blush.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Kevin said. “I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“And I said _no_.”

Kevin swiftly rose from his seat, sizing Stevonnie up and grabbing their arms, latching onto their elbows. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

_“Let go of me!”_

“Hey!”

Jenny walked up to Kevin, her two friends following suit. Stevonnie successfully wrested themself from him.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jenny asked, hands on her hips in a pose Gunga taught her well.

“Oh, well,” Kevin said. “We were just talking, and they flipped out for no reason.”

“He kept touching me!” Stevonnie shouted, making sure everyone heard. “And he made that woman with the dyed hair leave, too!”

“Wow,” Sour Cream said. “Not cool, dude.”

“Buck is not pleased,” Buck said.

“You need to leave,” Jenny seethed. “ _Now_.”

“That’s right, honey,” Kevin said smugly, looking at Stevonnie.

“I ain’t talking about them, _honey_.”

Kevin looked around. One by one, the patrons turned their attention elsewhere.

Kevin snapped back, “You can’t throw me out!”

“But I can,” a female bartender said, her notebook tucked into the crook of her crossed arms. “Now leave before I have to forcibly throw you out.”

The two gentlemen behind her intimidated Kevin enough to get the hint. He huffed, taking his jacket.

“This would’ve been a bogus party anyway,” Kevin said, tossing his crumpled dollar bill at the female bartender.

As he left, Jenny sat Stevonnie down by a table, massaging their shoulders.

“Are you OK?” Jenny cooed. “I am so sorry, sweetie. You didn’t deserve to be in the same room as that ol’ ugly-ass.”

“It’s OK,” Stevonnie said, smiling gratefully.

“It is not, either. You want me to get you another soda before the party starts?”

“Actually,” Stevonnie said, judiciously getting up, “I think it’s best that I go home.”

“Aww, no, don’t leave because of that prick!”

“No, it’s not that,” Stevonnie said. “I’m just not feeling myself tonight. I’m kinda…”

Stevonnie gestured their hand above their crotch, and Jenny nodded, immediately recognizing the connotation. Buck and Sour Cream looked at each other, perplexed as to what they meant.

“I get it completely.” Jenny hugged Stevonnie before they left. “You come to our parties next time, though, you hear?”

* * *

The fuschia nighttime sky illuminated Stevonnie’s face as they made their way back into Beach City. They walked alongside the lull of the tide, sometimes feeling the water lap at their tired feet. But eventually, the cramps and stress overwhelmed them all at once, and they fell to their knees.

Steven and Connie unfused before hitting the ground.

As they stirred and got up, Connie curled her legs into her chest.

“That felt…weird,” Connie said.

“What Kevin did?”

“Not just that.”

Steven turned to Connie gingerly. “Do you not like fusing as Stevonnie anymore?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Connie said. “It’s not your fault at all! And it’s not because of Kevin. But do you remember how it felt for that woman in there, not feeling like you belong even though you know you do?”

Steven nodded.

“That’s how I felt. I mean, I’m not used to having hair all over my body! Had we stayed in there for too long, we might’ve started growing a beard.”

“You’d look beautiful with one,” Steven said.

Connie smiled.

“How long is too long as Stevonnie?” Steven asked.

“I’m not sure yet. The weird thing is I didn’t feel it until I started my period.”

In an unexpected moment of solidarity, both of them asked each other, “Do you know how that felt?”

Connie was more surprised than Steven.

“Steven,” Connie said. “Is there something…you’re not telling me?”

“It’s not like _that_.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Steven sighed and rubbed his arm, looking away from her. “I really like being Stevonnie.”

Connie immediately reached out. “Oh, Steven, I’m so sorry!”

“Please,” Steven said slowly, “let me finish.”

Connie nodded and took her arm away from him.

“And when I’m… _me_ ,” Steven said, contemplating his word choice. “I like dressing feminine at times. I’ve practiced with eye makeup before, so that’s how I knew where that woman was coming from.” Steven turned back to Connie. “I don’t know if it’s _that_ or not yet. But whenever I do feel like that…I think of my mom. I think of how everyone wants me to be like her. And it makes me think, is this just an extension of that?”

“I didn’t know you had problems with your family, too,” Connie said.

“That’s because I don’t want to talk about it.”

Connie set her hand on Steven’s knee. “Steven, how you feel is how _you_ feel. It doesn’t automatically tie back to your mother. Like we said earlier, you’re _you_ , and that’s what matters.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

Steven smiled and touched her hand lightly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

Connie smiled, but then it was her turn. “I admit, I do identify as agender outside of just being Stevonnie.”

“That’s OK!”

“Well, it isn’t for me because I don’t think my mom would understand or accept that.”

“Ohh,” Steven said sadly.

“Like, for me, what triggered my dysphoria was both the period and all of the body hair we had. I don’t like looking visibly gendered. It honestly kills me because I want none of that.”

“Then we don’t have to,” Steven said. “We don’t have to grow our hair out. I’ll ask Garnet for a razor. She said she had one somewhere.”

“Steven.”

“And we can make sure you have napkins or whatever they are next time you have a period,” Steven said with boyish conviction. “I want you to enjoy being Stevonnie just like I enjoy being…something different.”

“Is that what it is for you?”

“That’s what I’m going with for now.”

Connie pulled Steven in for a hug. The tide splashed against rock pilings far away from them. In the darkened sky, the moon dangled over them like one of the bar lights.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my response to the Crewniverse confirming Stevonnie to be canonically intersex and nonbinary. I was ecstatic upon finding out because I relate to them for personal reasons.
> 
> The way I wanted to portray Stevonnie’s intersex identity was an ambiguous mix of symptoms akin to Klinefelter syndrome (lack of muscle mass, excessive body hair) and hyperandrogenism (menstrual irregularities, reference to hirsutism).
> 
> I also wanted to have an openly intersex character enjoy their body. There’s an unhealthy and heartbreaking focus on “fixing” intersex people when they deserve to be themselves without forced medical intervention. I wanted Stevonnie to enjoy being themself, to portray an intersex and gender nonconforming body as inherently attractive and worthy, and to show how intersex identities intersect with trans/nonbinary identities.
> 
> I don’t really headcanon Steven as trans as many do because I worry that headcanoning him as trans is continuing to treat him as an extension of Rose; but I wanted to express his questioning in a realistic way. Meanwhile, I’ve headcanoned Connie as agender and both of them as pan as far back as 2015.
> 
> I originally intended for this to be three chapters, but I felt like this was short and choppy enough to be put together as a one-shot. So, behold, a story about gender euphoria and dysphoria, physical and emotional consent, and why it’s OK to not be fully sure or out with your identity.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and remember: Pride never ends! 🌈


End file.
